


Watch

by pastelfalcon



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Hand Jobs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-03
Updated: 2014-06-03
Packaged: 2018-02-03 05:49:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1733381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pastelfalcon/pseuds/pastelfalcon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for Undeadcare's prompt, "Rainy day Netflix watching with not so suave hand jobs." Established relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Watch

Sam tilts his head back against the bulky arm taking up residence on his pillow, big and warm and welcome. He scrubs his hair against the inside of Steve’s elbow briefly before settling again, eyes falling into a sleepy squint like a bored cat. 

They’re shambling into hour four of watching documentaries on Netflix, and so far Sam’s only really been into the one on eagles, which was two educational hours ago. The laptop rests on the wide concrete slab of Steve’s chest, the warmth apparently not bothering him because his grey tank doesn’t have a single dot of sweat.

Unlike Sam, Steve is visibly enamored by what they’re watching. Juuuust like he had been with the last one. And the one before that. All soft smiles and attentive baby blues; the exact same boyish pleasure he shows when he gets a glimpse of Sam’s dick.

Sam’s all for Steve’s thirst for knowledge, but there’s rain drumming against the bedroom window and Sam’s thirsty for something else entirely. 

Sam uncrosses his arms and drops a hand past the black frame of the laptop screen, fingers gliding down Steve’s partially exposed stomach. It hitches immediately from his touch, that tense flutter of stomach muscles that’s become instinctual, and Sam finds himself grinning as he rolls over onto his hip and gets his palm over Steve’s soft cock in his shorts.

“Oh,” says Steve, eyes moving quickly from the documentary to Sam’s mouth and then his eyes. “Hey.”

“Hey yourself,” Sam answers, dragging Steve’s boxers down enough to haul out his cock, which is already almost harder than Sam’s slowburn erection. “Nah, leave it on,” he adds quickly when Steve moves to close the laptop, Sam’s eyebrows waggling, “Don’t wanna come between a man and his love of boring-ass infotainment.” 

Steve immediately laughs, breathless and amused, but he does what he’s told. He’s got a reputation for bending over backwards for everybody else but Sam knows where the lines are, knows there’s some things he won’t apologize needlessly for or try to change for other people. One of those things is his damn Netflix.

Sam jacks him dry, knowing Steve likes the friction at first, the quick rub of skin-on-skin not uncomfortable like it would be for most guys not pumped full of super soldier serum. Steve’s face flushes but he mostly keeps his eyes on the screen, lips parting as he lifts his hips just slightly to push into Sam’s warm fist. Sam lets it happen for a minute, wrist working until precum dribbles over his knuckles because Steve leaks like a broken faucet when he’s got somebody else’s hand on him, but when Steve starts really rolling his hips, Sam stops. 

A line gathers between Steve’s eyebrows as he stills his hips, finally grunting and settling his ass back on the bed so Sam can dictate the pace of his strokes. “You drive a hard bargain,” Steve mumbles.

“Nobody’s bargaining anything, Cap,” Sam quips, and he chuckles when Steve shivers with the drag of Sam’s thumb over the wet head of his dick. “My hand, your dick; no terms necessary. It’s a tale as old as time, just like one of the participants.”

“Funny,” Steve grumbles, but his teeth press into his lower lip and his eyes wince shut when Sam gives his cock the exact squeeze Steve uses on himself, grip tight and consistent as he drags his hand from base to tip. There’s sweat stains on his tshirt now. 

“Eyes open, soldier,” Sam teases.

“You know, for no terms necessary, this is a pretty scripted exchange.”

“None of *your* terms necessary.”

Steve opens his mouth to sass back but his reply stumbles out on a short moan. Sam’s leaning a little heavier on his own hip so he can push his free hand up under Steve’s shirt, short fingernails catching one of his dusky pink nipples and twisting quick and mean. The laptop wobbles briefly, forcing Steve to stay still or risk sending it toppling off the side of the bed. The gray fabric of his tank stretches and ripples over Sam’s hand, hiding his plucking and rolling fingers from view.

After a minute, Steve laughs again, but this time it just sounds stressed. “Wish I could watch you,” he admits, smiling in spite of himself. 

“Yeah, well, I wish I could watch Scandal, but we can’t have everything we want,” Sam snarks, eyebrow raised, and Steve laughs again, no longer listening to Sam’s original mandate of keeping his eyes on his documentary. It’s timed out anyway, screen dimmed a little to conserve battery life. “C’mon, give it up for me.” 

“Let me move this thing,” Steve complains, squirming a little under the laptop, flushed and sweating. 

“Nope.” 

“Jesus, Sam, I –”

But Steve’s gritting his teeth and coming, hips mutinously lifting off the mattress so he can fuck himself through it, cum warm and thickly marbled dribbling down to Sam’s wrist. The line between his brows smoothes out as he tips his chin up and pants through his nose, red-faced and twice as handsome as any man Sam’s ever jerked off in his bed before. His tank top is splotchy with sweat when Sam snakes his hand free to snag a tissue from the mostly depleted box on his bedside table. 

“Feel all that knowledge coursing through your brain?” Sam sniggers as he wads up the tissue and tosses it haphazardly towards the closed door. He needs to get an outdoor trashcan in here or something. 

“If anything’s coursing through my brain right now, it’s not knowledge,” Steve murmurs, finally opening his eyes again to watch his lover. “We can watch Scandal instead,” he offers, bashful but pleased. 

“I got somethin’ better,” Sam murmurs, licking his fingers briefly before dropping his hand to his own crotch. 

Steve’s gaze doesn’t leave him once.


End file.
